


saturday morning, playground, coffee (22 June, 2024)

by Laura JV (jacquez)



Series: every choice you make creates a universe [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 17:05:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquez/pseuds/Laura%20JV
Summary: Rosie & Freya are best friends.Rosie’s dad & Freya’s mum are...not.





	saturday morning, playground, coffee (22 June, 2024)

Caroline heard Freya scream in delight, and looked up from her book in time to see Rosie Watson grab Freya’s hands and spin her around. She hoped her nanny was with her, or Sherlock. Really, anyone but— “John, hi.”

John, Rosie’s father, terrified her. She knew it was irrational — he’d never said or done anything in the least frightening — but she couldn’t stop feeling it. He made her feel like someone was walking over her grave every moment they spent together. It wasn’t as bad out here, in the park, as it had been the few times he’d come to her house to pick Rosie up, and Bill hadn’t been home. John’s presence had closed around her like ice.

He tilted his head to one side, his eyes steady on her, and then shifted a half-step away, tucking his phone into his pocket. The sunlight gleamed on the silver in his hair. She watched him surreptitiously: a small, neat man, hair swept up off his forehead, shoulders straight, arms crossed. There was the glint of a ring on his left hand, and she blinked, not believing her eyes at first. Rosie's mother had died when she was just a baby, and by the time Caroline had met John, he’d stopped wearing his ring.

Desperately grasping for some sense of normality, she said “You, um. You’re — did you get married?”

“Hm? Oh.” He looked down at his hand. “Yes, a few months back. We just got the rings this week. Sherlock designed them himself; we had to have them made."

“Sherlock? Oh! I didn’t — I didn’t know you two were— he always mentioned your girlfriends.“ 

He laughed. “Yes, I have girlfriends. Have had, rather. But when you love someone, you know, you love them.” He shrugged. “It seemed ridiculous to not marry him just because he wasn’t what I expected.” 

“Oh. Well, congratulations, to both of you.” 

He laughed, again. “Thank you. You know, it's funny. The first time I met his brother, I’d known Sherlock all of one day, and he implied I’d end up marrying him. He was being a dick, of course, but he pretended he'd known all along, when we told him.” He was still standing farther away than was usual for two people having a conversation, and his eyes were fixed on his daughter. After a moment, he said “How’s Bill and Charlie?” 

“Fine,” she said. “At a birthday party.” 

"Mm," he said. "Always glad when Sherlock takes those, I have to admit. Oh, there he is." 

Sherlock had three coffee cups, and handed one to her, slotting himself between her and John. She wondered, sometimes, if Sherlock knew how she felt; he frequently and unobtrusively put himself between the two of them. “John texted me that you were here,” he said, and handed another cup to John. 

“No, this is yours,” John said, after one sip. “How you can drink anything this sweet I’ll never understand.” 

"I enjoy the effects of sugar on the central nervous system," said Sherlock, as they swapped cups. He smiled at Caroline.

"So, congratulations," she said, and he laughed. 

"Ah. Well. John did it so I'd stop fretting." 

John laughed into his coffee, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, his head snapped up, and in a sharp, commanding tone, he called, "Rosie! Get down from there!"

Caroline followed his gaze; Freya was safely on the ground but Rosie had climbed the support poles and was straddling the top bar of the swingset. She tucked her feet up onto the bar and stood, perfectly balanced, and then jumped down, landing in a crouch. 

"That's on you," Sherlock said. "You didn't specify how she was to get down."

"Between Mary's genes and your parenting, I'm surprised she doesn't do things like that more often," John said, but he was laughing again. 

" _Mary's_ genes? _My_ parenting?" said Sherlock. "Which of us is the adrenaline junkie who gave that child half her DNA? She is _at least_ fifty percent your fault." 

John looked up at him, his face more open than Caroline had ever seen it, suffused with affection. For a moment, she forgot to be afraid.


End file.
